


I Dream of You Sometimes

by General_Syndulla



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Come Swallowing, Daddy Kink, Death Threats, Face-Fucking, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Imprisonment, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-11-02 02:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Syndulla/pseuds/General_Syndulla
Summary: Imprisoned deep within the walls of Negan's community, Daryl finds that he has to do more than work outside to survive. He has to be obedient in more ways than one, or even two or three. Negan seems to have taken a particular shine to him, and unfortunately for Daryl it means a lot of extra work indeed.





	I Dream of You Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PoeDANGeron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeDANGeron/gifts).

> Wow, my first Archive Warning. A little something written for kitty cat... Maybe you'll enjoy it, too. ;) I don't normally write things like this and likely never will again, except for something like this, as a gift. Please please read the tags carefully before you continue... There is nonconsensual sex in this story. Probably among the darkest things I've ever written. I'll have to make it up to Daryl!!

Daryl Dixon spat blood onto the hard concrete in front of him, tried to spit the splitting pain from the right hook on his jaw along with it. He glared up in clear defiance at the shadow that loomed over him. In response, the shadow clucked his teeth. “Now don’t give me that angry look, baby, you know I don’t like it. And I also know that you definitely don’t want to make Daddy angry again tonight, do ya?” The barbed wire-covered bat swung over the figure’s shoulders in an arc, resting on the back of his neck with both wrists hanging over either end. Daryl’s dark eyes narrowed and he turned his gaze back to the floor, hiding the snarl on his face. Blinked angrily down at his dingy sweatpants, his dirty sweater.

The other man, Negan, took it as a sign of obedience. His motorcycle boots squeaked slightly, the leather jacket he always wore stretching across his arms and shoulders with a quiet rustling sound. Daryl could hear the dripping sarcasm in his voice when he spoke. “’Atta boy. Knew you could be good for me, puppy. Let’s see just how good you can REALLY be…” Maybe a little bit of surprise in his tone, too. Negan stepped into the crowded and dank cell, closing the door behind him. The dim lightbulb hanging overhead was lit for once, the lightswitch outside the door flicked on when Negan had first come in minutes before.

He looked around with a smirk. “Nice digs ya got here.” More chirpy sarcasm. When Negan spoke, everything seemed like a joke to him. He talked about threatening and killing and stealing like he talked about the weather or a happy memory. It had grated on Daryl’s nerves at first. Weeks on, it was simply a vague annoyance in the background of the hellscape that had simply become his life.

Being one of Negan’s “workers” was more akin to being someone’s slave. He worked in the fields with the Walkers most days. Others he was like Negan’s personal butler. He was fed wet dog food on stale bread, sometimes without even anything to wash it down with. It had disgusted him at first, but the long days without anything else had made him hungry and desperate. Daryl hadn’t been a picky eater before the apocalypse anyway, and if he was being honest had eaten dog food as a last resort in the past, decades before in his childhood. Daryl tried to push the bad memories from his mind as Negan crowded him in the tiny dwelling he had called “home” these past weeks.

Happy thoughts only on nights like these.

Daryl suddenly felt the hard wood and prickly wrapped wire of Negan’s bat under his increasingly scruffy chin. Lucille. So stupid. Daryl hadn’t named any of his weapons ever in his life, precious as they were to him. Negan was that kind of haughty asshole, though. “I said I wanna see your pretty face, babydoll.” Daryl swallowed thickly, trying to push down whatever he had been fed earlier from rising up his throat. It was a lofty task, almost as hard as hiding the anger on his face as he lifted his chin in the dim light to look up at his captor. Lost in his thoughts, he had somehow missed the order. He managed to keep his expression neutral, passive and nonchalant. Inside, he was ablaze with anger. Negan grinned.

“Wooow. Cool as a cucumber! Who knows what’s going on behind those baby blues.”

Negan clucked his tongue, seemingly impressed. Daryl could never tell when he was being honest, though.

“What are ya bein’ so mean to your Daddy for, pup…” Negan swung Lucille away from Daryl’s face, gently setting the bat against the door, effectively stoppering it in case Daryl’s on shift watchman barged in to check on him. “Don’t you wanna make him happy?” Negan smirked down at Daryl’s unmoving features. “’Course you do.” Negan’s voice lowered to a dangerous tone, his dark eyes narrowing as he bent forward, cupping Daryl’s chin. He stroked his thumb across his lower lip, forcing Daryl’s lips apart.

Negan liked Daryl a lot. A whole lot, actually. He had been intrigued by him the moment he had run across him with the Survivors, knew anyone that took out an entire crew of his men almost singlehandedly like that had to be something special. Before the apocalypse, Negan could see Daryl being a good buddy of his, someone to knock a few beers back with after work. Negan respected Daryl a lot really, almost as an equal. But in this society, in this new world, no one was equal. They simply couldn’t be. Someone around here had to be top dog. And unfortunately for Daryl, Negan fully intended on being that dog.

“You gonna be a good boy for your Daddy tonight, baby…? Not gonna make him beg, are ya?” Negan pouted his lower lip out before his face spread into an easy smirk, the one he always seemed to wear on his face. Daryl had seen it crack once or twice by now. Anger, and guilt the other time. It was a mask. Just like Daryl’s unmoving one. Daryl Dixon from a month before would have scoffed at, even punched Daryl Dixon now for what he did next. He easily parted his lips and stroked his tongue along the pad of Negan’s probing thumb. Whatever he had to do to survive, he would. Negan’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Good puppy.”

Negan stood back to his full height over the other man, slowly unbuckling his belt. “You’re gonna get me hard… That shouldn’t take long.” Negan huffed a laugh. “…Then you’re gonna let me use that pretty, pretty mouth of yours.” Negan demanded in that same low and dangerous tone. Daryl didn’t move a muscle, maintained eye contact and kept his face just still enough to appear obedient, but Negan could still see that defiant streak in his eyes. He let it slide for now. Daryl seemed willing to cooperate tonight. He unzipped the front of his stained and torn jeans and pulled his dick out, thick and a decent length, and already firming up. Daryl clenched his fists in his lap and tried not to chew his tongue off before slowly raising one of his hands to wrap around the base of Negan’s shaft. Negan hummed in mild appreciation, pocketing one of his hands and keeping the other hanging free at his hip in case Daryl needed some reminding of who was in charge here.

Daryl had recognized a pattern in being allowed to shower and clean up the day or day before Negan would do something like this to him. When he had been forced into the dingy old shower down the hall that afternoon after his “shift”, he had known to begin mentally preparing. He didn’t let his mask falter as he began to stroke up and down Negan’s cock with a firm grip. “Mmmm, that’s perfect buttercup…” Negan groaned as he pressed his hips forward slightly.

Daryl had exchanged sexual favors with others before. But it had been different then… At least Daryl had been getting something he wanted when he was a hungry teenager, when he was a nigh-homeless young man, living by the skin of his teeth with his burnt-out druggie brother. But this? Negan would argue he kept Daryl fed and housed, and to some extent, healthy and clean. But Daryl was beginning to feel like he’d rather take that stupid baseball bat to his own head than spend one more night in this place. Daryl tried to go far away in his head while he stroked Negan off, but Negan wouldn’t let him. He could read the other man’s eyes too well when they started to glaze over. He nudged one of his broad shoulders with his knee, speaking slightly louder but keeping his tone neutral, almost soft. “You’re good at this, y’know. Make me feel so good. That’s why I always pick you when I’m feeling especially tense…”

Daryl was sure Negan meant it as some kind of half-baked compliment. It made him want to puke all over his boots instead. Daryl only grunted in reply and kept stroking up and down the length of Negan’s dick, his palm wrapped almost too tightly around, gliding from root to tip, thumb occasionally reaching out to stroke over his wet slit. It was enough to keep Negan quiet aside from his low moans, which was Daryl’s aim during these encounters. He couldn’t stand the other man’s banter.

Negan bit his lip and his freed hand found the top of Daryl’s head, gently fisting locks of his hair between his fingers. “Alright baby, you’re gonna make Daddy come before he even gets in your mouth.” Negan laughed as he gently pushed his palm at Daryl’s forehead, pushing the other man onto his heels. Daryl did his best to maintain eye contact, knowing Negan hated him to stare at him blankly too long. Negan stroked himself now, slowly licking his lips as he stared back. “Can tell you’re not happy with this puppy, but you’re gonna have to just get over it. Daddy needs your help tonight.” Negan settled his pocketed hand on his hip as he leaned forward over him slightly.

Daryl didn’t want to have to be told. Negan could get punchy if he was made to wait too long, as he had unfortunately learned. He leaned forward toward Negan, slowly parting his lips and letting his eyes flutter shut, long eyelashes fanning over the tops of his cheekbones as he started to take his shaft down his throat. Negan kept his hand fisted at his base as he let Daryl do all the work, hissed through his teeth as he felt his tip slide along the roof of Daryl’s mouth, and then down the back of his throat. Daryl hardly even gagged on it, but Negan sometimes liked him to. Maybe even tonight.

Daryl started to slowly bob his head up and down his length, working his way down Negan’s hard seven inches to the base of his cock, trying to go as fast as he could so it could be over faster. Negan was for once at a loss for any snarky quips, simply groaning each time Daryl came closer to swallowing him whole. He let go of his grip on his dick to balance himself on the cinderblock wall behind Daryl, holding himself there with one outstretched palm. Daryl huffed breaths through his nose, feeling the scratchy hairs at the base of Negan’s cock tickling the tip of his nose.

At least like this Daryl didn’t have to keep up his cool act. He kept his eyes scrunched shut, tried to keep his throat relaxed, tried to go far away, thought of Carol, thought of Rick, thought of running back into their arms, tried to convince himself this wasn’t forever and it would pass, he’d be back with them soon, safe and warm and protected by his friends. His family. Daryl’s throat spasmed as Negan started to press his hips into him instead of waiting for him to finish bobbing up and down. He choked through his nose, unable to cough because his windpipe was currently stuffed with cock.

Negan chuckled and then started to laugh almost uproariously over him. Apparently, Daryl choking on his dick was amusing. Daryl certainly didn’t think so. “Aww, pace yourself babydoll, don’t hurt yourself now.” With the hand that wasn’t balancing him, Negan reached down and pushed the heel of his palm into Daryl’s head, holding him in place by the front of his head as he started to steadily hump into his face. Daryl breathed shakily through his nose, trying to keep still and keep his muscles relaxed. Negan’s laughter turned into low groans and he nodded above him. “Yeah, just like that puppy, just like that… Good boy.” He ruffled the hair at Daryl’s hairline, grabbing bunches of it to hold his head by. Daryl kept still, knowing his reluctant obedience would be rewarded at the very least by Negan leaving him alone for another few days, or maybe a week. Hopefully more.

“Shit, I’m comin’ baby, fuck…” Negan swore quietly as his cock started to leak precome down his throat. Daryl had to struggle not to cough. His eyes watered and a few tears dripped down his narrow face. Thankfully, Negan couldn’t see in the low and shitty lighting. He pulled his dick back, his tip no longer ramming the back of Daryl’s throat but instead coming to rest halfway down the length of his tongue. The drag of that movement was enough to have Negan coming in his mouth, the first spurts of it trailing down his throat and sliding down his tongue. Negan pulled out fully before he was finished, aiming his squirting dick at Daryl’s lips, at the tip of his tongue, coated in drool and precome from the blowjob. Daryl barely moved except to automatically swallow what was at the back of his throat. Negan froze above him, standing up straight and smearing the head of his cock across Daryl’s lips.

“Swallow.”

His voice was cold, a stark contrast to the bubbly laughter and playful vibe he had been giving off moments before. Daryl’s hands were starting to tremble. He hoped Negan would leave soon. He slowly licked his lips, tasting the bitter and salt on his tongue before swallowing it all and slowly opening his mouth, raising his chin to show he was all clean. Negan’s face and tone were jovial again. “Good boy! Good boy, puppy.” He was tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping up. He swung Lucille over his shoulders again and scuffed his boots in the dirt on the hard floor.

“Yep, always does the trick. Keep working hard for me, baby. It’ll pay off, promise.” Negan winked at him. He turned on his heel, whistling a tune as he opened and then slammed the door behind him. The light shut off soon after and he could hear Negan laughing all the way down the hallway back to the rest of the camp. Daryl turned and retched next to the door, trying to keep the mess far from where he slept, usually fitfully huddled into the far corner. Daryl wouldn’t recognize himself now. Maybe no one would. He pushed his stringy hair from his scruffy face and sighed, collapsing into a heap against the wall. Hard labor would be a welcome change from whatever this was. Daryl hoped the Survivors would come for him soon. They couldn’t be far off. Rick wouldn’t leave him behind. None of them would in a million years.

Desperate dreams of their faces, being surrounded and loved and hugged by them all haunted his sleep that night.


End file.
